I could deny it if I liked I could deny anything if I liked
by digthewriter
Summary: Draco has to begrudgingly help Potter find a Secret Santa gift for Blaise.


**I could deny it if I liked. I could deny anything if I liked**.

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
 **Notes:** All my thanks to C for the beta!

* * *

When Draco heard the chime of the bell, he came around from behind the counter, and was nearly stunned in silence. Why was Potter of all the people in his shop?

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, even though he should have known better. Potter was a customer, and all customers needed to be treated with respect.

"Oh. I didn't know you worked here," Potter said, clearly lying through his teeth.

"Really?" Draco raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms. "You didn't know I worked here." He flapped his arms around to all the trinkets that were spread out. "At Antiques by Draco Malfoy?"

"Okay, fine!" Potter said with a resigned sigh. "I didn't know where else to go."

Draco stood his ground as he glared Potter down. He had no idea why Potter was there, and he wasn't interested. He'd not seen Potter since the last Christmas party, two years ago Pansy's flat where they were forced to kiss under a mistletoe. Draco refused to remember that night—seeing Potter was only a reminder of how embarrassing it'd all been.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Blaise!" Potter said in a rush as if he were sure Draco was going to kick him out if he didn't say something to catch Draco's attention.

Draco was ready to kick him out. "What about Blaise?"

"I have him for Secret Santa."

"You what?"

Potter seemed to collect his thoughts before he spoke again. "Ginny is dating Blaise. Blaise is over at the Weasley's a lot. We are playing Secret Santa this Christmas, and I have Blaise. I haven't the foggiest what to get him. It has to be something good because Ginny really likes him, and, well, I thought maybe you'd know."

Draco regarded Potter's statement. It did have merit. Blaise's tastes were eclectic, sophisticated, and he was very hard to shop for. "What's in it for me?" Draco regretted the moment the words left his mouth. Gods, he'd really now done it, hadn't he?

Potter grinned, as wide as the day was bright, and took a step closer. "Anything. Anything you want!"

"Fine. How much do you wish to spend? On Blaise, I mean." Draco cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets; he couldn't believe he was so nervous. Why the hell was that?

"Money isn't the objective, but I'd rather not spend too much because I don't want the Weasleys to think—I don't know— I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable."

"Very well. When do you need this by?" Draco asked, already bemoaning his decision.

"Friday?" Potter asked, having the courtesy of looking sheepish.

"Friday? Potter, it's Wednesday!"

"I know. I know. But the early holiday party is on Friday at the Burrow before the big one that the Zabinis are throwing, and, well—I really did try to find something on my own, but I've no idea. Everything I looked at didn't seem like the right thing. It's not that Blaise isn't a decent, easy going bloke, but I can't just buy him a tie or a wallet!"

Draco took a deep breath and centred himself. "I close up my shop at six o'clock tonight. We will go to Mayflower Alley afterwards. I know he's a big fan of a consignment shop there. Perhaps they'll carry something that might catch your eye. Or better yet, why don't you just head over there and—"

"I'd rather you come with me!" Potter seemed to insist, and Draco wanted to groan. Still, the idea of going to the shop did seem appealing to him. He had been bored with his antiques, as he'd not made a sale in a week, and wouldn't mind a bit of distraction.

"Can't do anything on your own?"

"I'd just rather not fuck up," Potter said. "If you're there, you'll tell me what's good, as opposed to me buying half the shop, and then coming back here for what to keep and what to return."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter. Just return later at six, and we will go then!"

Potter smiled at him and turned around to walk away. But before he actually left the shop, something seemed to catch his eye. He walked up to the display case in the far corner, where the quills were kept, and started to peer at them.

"What is it?" Draco asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

"These are beautiful," Potter said. He was especially looking at a long silver quill fabricated from the feather of a Madagascar sparrowhawk.

"Good eye. These are my favourites. They produce the most elegant of handwritings. Do you wish to give it a try?" Draco asked, and Potter nodded.

Draco summoned a parchment and ink as he opened the glass case, and carefully retrieved the quill Potter had been eyeing. Then he dipped the quill in the ink, and offered it to Potter.

"Ah, I never know what to write when I try these out. I always think writing my own name is so lame," Potter said. "Besides, I might freak out a bit more if the words get absorbed on the parchment." Draco looked at Potter with utter confusion. He had no idea what Potter was on about.

"Never mind," Potter said, and began to write. "It's very smooth."

Draco looked down at the parchment and read the words Potter had just scribbled. Thank you, Malfoy. Yours, Harry Potter.

Draco hated how his heart beat faster and he looked away. "Anything else interest you in the shop?" he asked, walking away from Potter and towards another display of quills.

"Yeah, maybe," Potter said. Draco felt Potter's gaze on him, but he didn't turn.

"So, I'll see you at six then?"

"I'll buy this now, if you want. Or, you know, I could come back at six to pay for it."

Honestly, Potter just didn't want to leave, did he?

"I'll have it wrapped and ready for you." Draco finally locked eyes with Potter again, and picked up the parchment, the ink, along with the quill and its box. "Would you like it gift-wrapped for Christmas, or would our shop's logo-paper suffice?"

"It's for me, so don't need to go all out or anything."

"Certainly," Draco said, bowing slightly before he returned to his spot behind the till. "I appreciate your business."

"I appreciate your help," Potter said.

Then, finally, Potter was gone. Draco watched the door for a while, until he looked down at his hands and realised he was tracing Potter's words on the parchment with his finger.

* * *

0-0-0-0

* * *

Potter was back ten minutes before closing, and Draco had his quill wrapped and ready for him. When Potter paid him, Draco had him sign the receipt before placing the purchase in the box.

"This is so fancy, you didn't have to," Potter said, clearly admiring the wrapping job Draco had done.

"There weren't very many customers today, so I had the time," Draco replied, locking the till, and placing a protective charm on all his things before heading out the door, locking that, as well.

"I'll have to come back and buy more things, then," Potter said. "I think I've just got a great idea for what to get the head-secretary for Christmas."

Draco couldn't help himself and he shook his head. "Honestly, Potter. Why do you wait so last minute for all your holiday shopping? Don't you know merchants only raise their prices the closer you get to Christmas?"

Potter shrugged as he fell in step with Draco, and they made their way away from Diagon Alley. "I'm just busy with work. It's not like I have a lot of free time. I always volunteer for the extra shifts during the holidays."

"And why's that?"

Potter was quiet for a while, so Draco stopped walking to look at him. "I don't exactly have a lot of family, Malfoy," he said, so softly Draco had to strain to hear.

"Right. Of course," Draco said, feeling like a complete fool. "Shall we continue, then?" he asked and Potter nodded. They made their way to the Inter-Alley Transportational Floo-Network. It was a lot better than Apparating into a shop during the holidays. One never knew where they ended up or on top of someone in a crowded boutique.

"So why are we going to a consignment shop?" Potter asked as they arrived at Mayflower Alley, and were approaching Up In The Attic. "Wouldn't it make more sense to go to a proper shop, or something?"

"Not every consignment shop carries second-hand items. Some of them can also be like an antique shop, very similar to the one I own. I know Blaise likes to come here because it's unique. They carry vintage or classic styles that most modern shops don't have. He liked to think of himself as a man of the world. After the war, he'd travelled for years, he cherishes the types of things most people wouldn't consider owning."

"You know, I was thinking about that. I'd considered getting him a fedora, but didn't know where I would even go looking for one."

Draco was impressed by Potter's idea. Blaise adored Muggle fashion, and he owned several different types of Muggle suits that were famous in the 1920s. If Potter had thought of that on his own, then he didn't really need Draco's help. He simply needed to be nudged in the right direction.

They were almost at the shop Draco wanted to go in when they walked past a café. The doors were open, and Draco took in the smell of the pastries and cakes they were selling; his stomach grumbled.

"Hey, do you want to go in?" Potter asked, as if he'd noticed Draco's reaction. Draco wondered if he had.

"I..."

"Come on, my treat!" Potter grabbed Draco's elbow and all but pulled him into the café.

Draco found a booth in the corner as Potter went up to the counter to order. He was back five minutes later with two hot chocolates and big piece of pecan pie. "This is my weakness," Potter said, handing a spoon to Draco before he took a bite for himself. Potter closed his eyes and hummed.

"I can't," Draco said, putting the spoon down, but picking up the hot chocolate.

"Please, I insist. I can't eat the whole thing myself. I'll have to run an extra hour at the Ministry gym tomorrow if I do. And I'm not going to be in the mood for exercising on my day off."

"You don't need extra exercis—" Draco caught himself before he finished the sentence, but he feared it was too late. The damage was done.

Potter looked at him and beamed. "You think so? Think I look good, Malfoy?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're so full of yourself."

"Hardly," Potter said. "Just glad you've been checking me out."

"I've not been checking you out. Honestly, what sort of phrasing is that, anyway?"

"It's what Muggles say—"

"Well, I'm certainly not a Muggle."

"I know, Muggles don't usually have a stick up their arse."

"Excuse me?" Draco's eyes widened at Potter's response. How dare he?

"Or, you know, they don't ignore one's owls after they kiss someone at a Christmas party."

"That was two years ago."

"I sent you four letters."

"I was busy."

"I wanted to see you."

"What does that matter?" Draco internally winced at his words. He didn't mean to sound so harsh. But Potter didn't seem to be fazed by it. He scooped a small piece of the pie on his spoon, offering it to Draco. "What's this?"

"Taste it. You'll like it."

Draco made a face, and then finally opened his mouth as Potter spoon-fed him the piece of the pecan pie. It was delicious.

"So?" Potter probed.

"It's nice."

"And you'll have more. Come on, it's not like you need the exercise." When Draco's eyes widened again, Potter added, "and I have been looking."

"Did you actually need my help with shopping for Blaise, or was this just a way to trick me into feeding me pie?"

Potter shrugged. "I did need help. I told you, I had an idea or two, but nothing was panning out. This way, I got your help, and I got to talk to you. Because honestly, Draco, I've been thinking about that kiss for far too long. I liked that kiss. I'd wanted it before it'd happened, and I want to do it again. You're just so difficult with me, and I—"

"Did you ever think perhaps I'm just not interested in you?" Draco asked. Of course, he didn't mean it. Not really. He'd liked kissing Potter, but he'd also been scared. Scared of what it all meant. What it meant to be always kissing Potter.

Blaise made it look so easy. He'd started dating a Weasley! And he fit right into her family, Potter's supposed family, effortlessly. Draco didn't know if he had it in him to do something like that.

Potter's face hardened at Draco's reply. He didn't look hurt, but he didn't look happy, either.

"See, it's that easy. All you had to do was tell me you weren't interested. I mean, even if you kissed me back that night, and your arms wrapped around me, and I felt you get hard and push against my thigh— but you know, things happen. You weren't actually interested. That's all you had to say, Malfoy."

They were quiet for a while. Draco didn't eat any more of the pie, and Potter didn't offer him any. They drank their hot chocolates in silence, and when they were done, they collectively got up off their seats and walked out of the café.

* * *

0-0-0-0

* * *

Up In The Attic wasn't as crowded as Draco had feared, and he was glad for it. He and Potter walked around the shop looking at travel bags, silk scarves, and a hundred different styles of fedoras.

Finally, with a help of the sales clerk, Potter settled on a navy colour, faux-fur hat with a heavy ribbed silk ribbon around the edge. It was a classic, and Draco almost wanted to buy one for himself. But, he barely dressed in Muggle attire, and it'd look stupid on him, anyway.

"Thank you for your help, Malfoy," Potter said to Draco after he'd made his purchase, gotten the hat nicely placed in a big box and got it gift-wrapped, and they stood outside the shop.

"It certainly made for an interesting evening," replied Draco.

"If you would like to attend the Weasley Christmas party—"

"Potter," Draco warned.

"Just as friends," Potter said, raising his hands in surrender. "As you know, it's on Friday. Blaise will be there, and I think he might be dragging Nott along, too. So if you'd like. I mean, I can even ask Blaise to extend the invitation so you don't have to think that it's just me being stubborn, or aggressive or anything."

"Thank you for your invitation," Draco said as politely as he could, "but I'd rather—"

And then Potter kissed him. Right then and there, in front of the consignment shop, in the middle of a busy street in Mayflower Alley. Potter kissed him.

And Draco kissed him back.

As he had two years ago, Draco pulled Potter close to him, wrapping his arms around Potter's waist, and pressing their hips together. He rocked slightly against Potter's body, and Potter parted his lips so Draco could slide his tongue in. And of course, Draco did. Because Draco was stupid, and stubborn, and inflexible, unless it came to kissing Potter. Which he apparently willingly did.

Potter sucked on Draco's lips with abandon. He moaned around Draco's tongue, and Draco couldn't help but think how he tasted of hot chocolate and pecan pie—and he wished he'd really had more of that pie because it was bloody delicious. Potter was bloody delicious.

They finally broke apart, more so to take in a few breaths, when Potter rested his forehead against Draco's.

"Shit, I'd thought it was my imagination when I'd remember how good you were at kissing. How amazingly you kissed me. And we're not even drunk this time."

"Potter..."

"Don't, Draco. Don't lie to me anymore. Stop lying to yourself. Don't say you're not interested in me, because I know you are. I saw the way you were looking at me in the shop. I tried on a coat and your eyes were glued on me. I know that look."

"What look?"

"It's how Blaise looks at Ginny. It's how—I know—I look at you. I just want what we can have..."

"What's that?"

"Just a chance. Don't you think we deserve a chance? I liked you from before. We kissed, and I tried to ask you on a date so many fucking times and you ignored me. For years. Only to kiss me like this in the middle of a public place—"

"You pulled me in for a kiss," Draco protested, wanting to be kissing Potter again.

"Yeah. And you didn't pull away, or hex me, or Disapparate..."

"Fair point," Draco said. He sighed heavily, before continuing. "We have nothing in common."

"That's not true," Potter argued. "We're the same age. We both went to Hogwarts. We both care about our jobs. We both care about our friends, we want to see them happy, and we'll do anything for our families. Granted, my family is more the Weasleys than blood-related, but it's the same. We both enjoy kissing each other. That's lots of things in common."

Draco eyed him for a full minute before he spoke. "Did you really have Blaise as a recipient for Secret Santa, or did you make that up to come to my shop?"

Potter laughed softly before he placed a quick kiss on Draco's lips. "I switched with Fred," he said shrugging.

"So this is what you want? This is what you're asking me? To date you?"

"Yes," Potter said, nodding. "Let's start tonight. Let's go out and have dinner. Then I'll take you out to dinner again tomorrow. And you'll be my date for the party on Friday—"

Draco scowled and before he could say anything, Potter continued talking. "And I understand this might be rushing, but we can take it slow after the New Year. I will be back working full time then, and I won't be harassing you every day or anything. I just know that I have a few days off right now. I just want to do what makes me happy."

"And you think I can make you happy?" Draco asked sceptically.

"Draco, I know you can." Potter smiled and pulled Draco close to him. A moment later, he'd Side-Alonged him to his flat. "Don't worry, we're only here to drop off my purchases." He kissed Draco again before leading him to his sitting room, leaving him there. "I'll be right back."

Draco waited until Potter returned. "So where should we go?"

Draco didn't know what to say. "Where do you want to go?"

Potter made a contemplative face. "Are you hungry?"

Draco shook his head.

Potter chuckled nervously. "So what do you want to do? I mean, I did kidnap you sort of for this date, and now I'm all out of ideas."

Draco smiled and pulled out his wand from his pocket. He murmured a spell, and a small cluster of mistletoe wrapped in a ribbon appeared on top of them. Potter looked up and smiled.

"We could make up for lost time," Draco said, smiling wickedly, and pulled Potter in for another kiss. They crashed on the sofa in Potter's sitting room and stayed there all night.

* * *

THE END. THANKS!


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